The Poetry Corner

Pause.

By Madison Julius Cawein

So sick of dreams! the dreams, that stain The aisle, along which life must pass, With hues of mystic colored glass, That fills the windows of the brain. So sick of thoughts! the thoughts, that carve The house of days with arabesques And gargoyles, where the mind grotesques In masks of hope and faith who starve. Here lay thy over weary head Upon my bosom! Do not weep! "He giveth His beloved sleep." Heart of my heart, be comforted.